There was one time...

when Van and I were out for an evening of carousing, hell-raising and alcohol consuming.

We patronized a number of establishments and settled upon one, late in the evening, joining the past 1:00 a.m. crowd, and ordered a round of beers.

Round one met round two, round two met round three...you get the point.

From both a physical and state of mind standpoint, we were W.C. Fields and Edgar Allan Poe...so, as the bar crowd spilled into the alleyway after 3:00 a.m., Van decides he'd really like some company for the evening.

I tell him to stand at the end of a walkway, where everyone exiting will pass.

He complies, and to every, every woman that walks by alone, I simply say

LAST CHANCE LADIES! LAST CHANCE FOR LOVE TONIGHT! HE'S ALL YOURS!

No takers.

His urgency sharpens and he sets out to find an hourly companion. I watch him stumble and weave across the cobblestone street, back toward the quickly vacating waterin' hole.

He zeroes in on one and makes his move.

She's laying on the sidewalk, face down, friends all around.

Van begins to rub her shoulders and whisper in her ear.

I'm pissing myself at this point.

He's not trying to be funny.

He's trying to be a date rapist with a heart.

After all, he is rubbing her shoulders.

Finally, a large friend of the slumping sidewalk sleeper picks her up and put her over his shoulder and walks away.

No love for Van that night.

It just wasn't meant to be.

After all, he can't have ALL the luck.

Just the week before, at the same bar, he approached a girl and actually said, with all sincerity "I've got a van parked right outside." and ten minutes later was having Creepy Van Sex with her.

Way to go Chester.